


crash_hot

by prosodiical



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Alley Blow Jobs, Getting Together, M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: There's something to be said for the thrill of the chase.





	crash_hot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepsix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepsix/gifts).



> Thanks to Isis for the beta!
> 
> I just finished this game and had to write something about these two dorks for you! Happy Yuletide! ♥

Marcus's driving is normally absolutely wild; Wrench has watched him careen full-speed into the bay more than once. But today's he's buzzed enough to not even punch him when he swerves around another truck, their front bumper clipping its edge, and instead just takes another draw of his shitty beer. "Tell me you've got the good stuff in the trunk," Wrench says, and squints through his mask's display past his feet on the dash as Marcus just misses a motorcyclist at high-octane speed. "This beer is shit. Why did I agree to this mysterious outing, again? It can't just have been your insanely good looks."

"No," Marcus says, and Wrench tilts his head at him to see the smile that comes with that tone of his voice, right on the edge of a laugh. "Pretty sure we agreed it was 'my effortless good charm' and 'the pleasure of my company'."

"Did I say that? I take it all back," Wrench says, shaking his head mournfully. "And you know, I can get you whenever I want."

"Oh, can you?"

"C'mon, all it'd take is the promise of some good sledgehammer action – or are you saying you don't want to break a few Tidis 'bots open and get at their insides?" Wrench has a few he salvaged from a failed production line back at the garage. He spends a brief moment daydreaming of chainsaws and scrap metal flying.

"Well, when you put it like that..." Marcus says, and cuts straight across four fucking lanes to get to an exit. Wrench is too busy pretending he's not watching him that the double-take Marcus does doesn't register right away, but then he hears the sudden onset of sirens and Marcus mumbling, "Ah, fuck," as he takes the first left turn, pulling out his phone with one hand.

"Hey," Wrench says, conversationally, eyeing the rapidly approaching brick wall at the end of the street, "watch the road."

Marcus spins the wheel, slamming on the brakes, and they drift all the way to the wall, the metal and paint of his door scraping with an ear-splitting sound on the turn before he puts his foot down on the accelerator and they're off. Wrench, wincing, tugs his own phone out of his pocket, and ensures the cop car behind them doesn't make the turn as the traffic lights ahead flicker to green.

Honestly, it's been a while since he's done this real-time destructive shit, blowing water pipes once they're clear and watching the traffic pile up on the road, the vicious thrill of stopping cops right in their tracks. He hacks into the car that’s chasing them, finds one cop’s being blackmailed by his mistress to the tune of thousands and wires some of that money away himself -

"Man, I don't want to interrupt, but are you on that?" Marcus says, and guiltily, Wrench stops giggling to himself to see the call for reinforcements on his mask's overlay, to see Marcus glance at his own phone screen, swiping over his apps as the car veers left -

"Shit!"

Wrench spins the wheel just in time to stop them crashing head-first into a glass storefront, but the sudden turn sends them straight across the intersection to the cop-cars speeding toward them, clocking at least sixty - Marcus, wide-eyed, swears and slams on the brakes as his thumb hits his screen and there's a screech of rubber on cement and crumpling metal as they hit the cruiser in a bone-jarring head-on -

The entire block goes silent, dark as a fucking grave. Wrench looks at Marcus, who looks back at him, then at the smoke starting to seep out of their hood; he hears the cops through the cracked glass, hears the click of a gun and he grabs Marcus's arm, kicks the door open and drags him out the passenger side. Marcus tosses an electroshock grenade at the wreckage as Wrench pulls him, his grip bruisingly tight around Marcus's wrist but he doesn't even fucking care, as long as Marcus gets out of this shit without another fucking bullet wound to patch up on the couch.

Wrench hears the tick of the grenade just as the cops start firing, imagines they're turning toward it as he flicks through his phone on his free hand and sets it off; he's just clear of it, a sharp tingle over his skin as Marcus shifts so that he can grip Wrench's wrist and pull him between the nearby buildings and away. They book it double-time, racing down the street like the cops are still on their tail, and now Wrench is feeling the adrenaline of it like a straight-up drug, the giddy mix of daredevil delight and the sound of Marcus's breathless laugh as they slow to a stop in some badly-lit alley.

"You okay?" Marcus says, as Wrench puts his hands on his knees and breathes.

"Fuck," Wrench says with relish, drawing out the word, "what a rush."

Marcus is looking at him again, that strange softness in his eyes, that curve to his smile that makes Wrench's pulse jump. "Lemme guess, the way to your heart."

"You know me so well," Wrench says. "Please tell me you've got more. You can't get a guy all excited and not follow through."

"Oh, I'll follow through," Marcus says, and steps forward, deliberately enough that Wrench can only think of sliding his hands under that unconscionably hipster shirt and tasting the faint sheen of sweat on his skin and – fuck, Wrench thinks, there's no way he's not making heart-eyes right now. "Though, uh, considering how we left my car..."

Wrench looks in the direction they came from as a far-off explosion sounds, a flash of illumination in the air as the city around them starts to hum back to life. "How much booze did you have in that thing?"

"More like modified grenade launchers," Marcus says, sounding somewhat sheepish. "I had a few ideas on the non-lethal end - I know you love to blow shit up, but we can't be killin' people left and right if we want to keep our cred."

Fuck, but he's perfect. Wrench is buzzed and joy-high and Marcus has seen his face before and never mentioned it again, probably won't even punch him if this doesn’t all go to shit, so he ignores his heart pounding like a fucking jackhammer in his ears and the way his fingers are trembling, and grabs a solid handful of Marcus's shirt and reels him in. "You know how I love it when you talk dirty to me. Keep it up, Marcus."

Marcus always looks past the mask. It's terrifying and thrilling in equal measure, like the way he'd felt sitting there on the rooftop, feeling nothing like himself until Marcus had come. "Wrench," Marcus says, and sets his fingers on the corner of Wrench's mask. Wrench hisses a breath through his teeth, unclips his mask and kisses him.

He starts it too fast, too hard, too messy, and as Marcus's mouth opens under his, slick and hot, his hand on Wrench's jaw is too fucking sweet. Wrench gets his hands under Marcus's stupid shirt and mumbles, "Why you hide this bod under all your fucking hipster shit," and Marcus's chest shakes on a laugh as he presses his nose to Wrench's cheek and kisses him again. Marcus knows what he's doing, knows just how to get Wrench hot; the curl of his tongue, the almost painful tug of his fingers in Wrench's hair, the press of his thigh against Wrench's half-hard cock.

Wrench bites at his mouth and Marcus says, "Down, boy," with all the ease of someone who knows he's got it, and Wrench would peer at him through his eyelashes if he still had his mask on – does, anyway - as he grins, palms Marcus's cock in those too-tight jeans and drops right there to his knees.

"Ooh, kinky," Wrench says, and noses at the seam of Marcus's pants, fingers on his zipper, as Marcus makes a gorgeous sound low in his throat. "Never thought you had it in you."

"No one's having shit if you don't get on with it," Marcus says, an audible smile in his voice; Wrench, taking his time mouthing at Marcus's cock through his boxers, can't help his grin as he slips his hand under the band and tugs them down.

Marcus groans satisfyingly when Wrench gets his hand around his cock, and then his lips and tongue; it's enough to send a jolt of heat through him, to stick one hand down his own pants, jerking himself slowly off. Marcus's cock is velvet-smooth and weighty, and while Wrench hasn't sucked cock in ages he knows enthusiasm makes well up for it, so he takes it sloppy and wet until Marcus's fingers are tightening in his hair, until Marcus is making these perfect bitten-off sounds as though he has only just realized they should be quiet. Marcus's hips stutter as though he's trying to stop himself from fucking Wrench's throat when Wrench swallows him down and moans around it, loud and deliberately obscene; he looks up at Marcus to see that he's watching him, eyes warm and dark. "Fuck," Marcus is saying, "fuck, Wrench, you're so fucking gorgeous - "

Wrench's mind blanks in a disorienting white-hot flush of shame and arousal as he freezes. He's come all over his fingers in his pants, and he forces his attention back to Marcus, with his damned beautiful, genuine smile; fuck, but Wrench doesn't deserve this, him, the heat of his cock under his fingers, the weight of it on his tongue. Wrench twists his wrist and applies all of his not-inconsiderable effort to making Marcus say his name again, to making Marcus want - what, Wrench doesn't even fucking know. He can't think past the buzz in his ears and the taste of Marcus's cock, the gravel in his voice when he says Wrench's name; it's somehow better than Wrench has ever fantasized about, and Wrench doesn't even know if he'll - if they'll -

"Wrench," Marcus says, his fingers in Wrench's hair, a hand on Wrench's jaw, but Wrench doesn't move, swallows Marcus down as he comes straight down his throat. Wrench savors the moment, Marcus's throaty groan and the way his touch makes Wrench's whole body thrum, and by the time Marcus's pulled back and tucked himself away Wrench's still sitting there on his knees, feeling strangely dazed.

Marcus's hand is on his face, his jaw, and he tilts Wrench's head up as he drops down to a crouch himself, and Wrench has no fucking idea what he must look like to get the tone of voice in which Marcus says, "Hey, you okay?"

He takes Wrench's hand, cleans it with broad strokes of his tongue that send a thrill of something more than just arousal up Wrench's spine. His pulse feels weird, stuttering in his chest. He manages a smile that hopefully doesn't look too besotted, says, "Yeah, yeah, I'm – "

Which is when Marcus kisses him again.

He's absolutely gentle, a nip at Wrench's lower lip, his touch feather-light, and when he pulls back he says, "Sorry, man, couldn't help myself," and offers Wrench's mask up in his hands. Wrench is not giving Marcus the satisfaction of seeing his stupid smile as he drops his head and takes his mask, clipping it back into place. He feels better with it on, more himself again, and he breathes out through the cloth and glances at Marcus again.

"Warn a guy next time," Wrench says.

"Hey, you started it."

"I was so overcome by our underlying sexual tension," Wrench says, eyes wide, "not to mention your - what was it? Effortless good charm."

"And here I thought you wouldn't be so easy," Marcus says, and offers him a hand up. Wrench takes it, and is startled all over again when Marcus pulls him into a brief hug. "You should've seen my ten-step plan; wining, dining, explosions - "

"We can still do that," Wrench says, almost too quickly. "But, I mean, you - ?"

Marcus tilts his head as Wrench tilts his; whatever Marcus's reading from the mask makes his eyebrows rise as his grin widens. "C'mon, you didn't know? Sitara's been on my case about you for weeks."

"But you're - and I'm - " Wrench can feel his face warm, and is glad it doesn't show.

"Dude," Marcus says, "I have seen that ass, don't give me that. And this - I mean, if it's too much, tell me, I'm not gonna drag you out on shitty dates you hate or anything - "

"Dates," Wrench manages, a little weakly. "So, we're..."

Marcus waits for him to finish, but Wrench's voice is stuck in his throat. Finally he says, "I kinda assumed from the whole blowjob in an alley thing that you, uh - "

"No, yeah, fuck, of course," Wrench gets out in a rush. "But - I'm a mess, M. And you're - "

"I like this mess, man,” Marcus says with an overdone solemnity, “so stop insulting it." He punches Wrench's arm, entirely for show. "And not to make you think I'm that easy, either, but my apartment's ten blocks away and we need to clean up. And get another car, if we're gonna get to the bomb range before they figure I'm not coming."

"A bomb range?" Wrench repeats, and knows there must be actual hearts in his eyes as he clings to Marcus's arm. "You booked us a bomb range? We're not even sneaking in illegally after dark?"

Marcus checks his phone and says, "Guess it'll depend on how long we take in the shower."

"Challenge accepted," Wrench says with relish. He pulls Marcus out onto the street as he fishes his phone back out of his pocket. The nearest car unlocks, and Wrench reluctantly detaches himself from Marcus's side to immediately claim the driver's seat. It's cheap leather, there's a faint smell of wet dog, and this is the happiest he's ever been. Marcus looks in through the window and Wrench tilts his head at the passenger door. "Get in, baby, and I'll give you the ride of your life."

"Yeah?" Marcus says, as he opens the door and slides into his seat. Wrench takes off the handbrake as he pulls gently off the curb. "This better be good."

"It'll be a blast," Wrench says with a wink, and floors it.

 


End file.
